Severed Bonds

by R S Penney

  “They were-”

  “Enemies, yes.” Anna strode forward with her arms crossed, pursing her lips and shaking her head. “Except the only thing that made Colonel Sorelu willing to order his officers to put down their weapons was the fact that we had tried so hard to avoid using lethal force.”

  With her mouth open, Keli stepped back and shook her head. “I…I didn't know.” A moment later, her resolve hardened again. “But I maintain that what I did was absolutely necessary for-”

  Planting fists on her hips, Anna looked up at the other woman. The heat in her face was hard to ignore. “You could have used stun-rounds to incapacitate those two telepaths. They would have been no threat to you.”

  “I determined-”

  “I've determined that you were angry,” Anna spat. Too angry to think, which meant that Keli shouldn't have been on that mission in the first place. That, however, was Anna's fault. “You wanted a little payback for what's been done to you, and I don't blame you for that. What was done to you was monstrous. But even my sympathy has limits. You want to work out your issues, Keli? See a therapist. When you're a part of my team, you put the mission first.”

  Keli was speechless.

  “The fact that we were part of an official military operation makes this a combat situation,” Anna went on. “Which means I can't charge you with murder. But if you ever pull something like that again, I'll bury you in a hole so deep you'll forget what sunlight feels like. Are we clear?”

  “As glass.”

  “Good.”

  As she emerged from a bus onto the sidewalk of a curving street where trees lined the curb, Anna took a moment to examine her surroundings. The blue sky was devoid of cloud cover, the air hot and humid. Buildings that stood no more than three stories high were packed closely together, some with store-front windows that looked into restaurants or recreation centres.

  With a surge of irritation, Anna looked up to squint at the sun. “Hot, sticky and late,” she said. “Exactly what I need if I want to avoid the customary familial nagging session.”

  Name the bleakness, and gaze into its void.

  Her father stood in front of a restaurant with a large front window, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a high-collared coat. Why men insisted on such suffocating attire in the blazing heat was beyond her.

  Beran Lenai was a short, compact man with fair skin and red hair that was turning gray. His goatee already had more than a few flecks of silver. “You are late,” he said in that matter-of-fact voice only a parent could manage.

  “Glad you noticed.”

  “Your hair…It's white.”

  Grinning with a burst of soft laughter, Anna felt her cheeks burn. She bowed her head to her father. “Your powers of observation are serving you well today,” she teased. “You said blue hair was unacceptable, so…”

  Inside, she found a large room with wooden tables spread out on the carpeted floor. Her family was sitting around a long, rectangular table with candles and a bouquet of red roses. Everyone was present: her aunt Mianda, her uncle Sevan. And of course, there was Alia, the guest of honour.

  Older than Anna by two years, Alia was taller, lankier. Her face was a perfect oval where Anna's was round. Her hair was long enough to reach her shoulder-blades and still in its natural strawberry-blonde colour. And of course, she wore a purple lilac on the strap of her pink dress, the sign of a bride to be.

  Maybe no one noticed me.

  Alia stood up, smiling beatifically as she nodded to Anna. “You made it!” she said, flowing around the table like a swan on a lake, taking Anna's hands and giving them a tight squeeze. “I'm so glad.”

  “Happy to be here.”

  As the sister of the bride, Anna had an empty plate only two chairs away from Alia; she would have been immediately adjacent but for the fact that she hadn't been named as Alia's Lenshar. The Speaker. Those who kept to the old traditions would name a speaker for the bride and another for the groom. Someone who would extol their virtues to their prospective partner.

  That honour was reserved for Milli Tanas, a woman with ringlets of long black hair that framed a gorgeous face with tilted eyes and a button nose. Damn, Anna thought. Hot. She knew next to nothing about Milli, only that she and Alia had been friends throughout college. This is not going to go well; Plus-side: I get to stare at adorableness out of the corner of my eye for several hours.

  On the other side of the table, Anna's mother stood up.

  Sierin wore beige pants and a white blouse that was half-hidden under a collection of necklaces with blue and green stones. Her hair was pulled back from a stern face. “As I was saying,” she broke in. “It's been my honour to know you, Soral.”

  That was the groom.

  A handsome man with olive skin and curly black hair, he smiled at Sierin. “Well, I can say the feeling is more than mutual,” he replied. “Your family has always made me feel so very welcome.”

  “You two make a lovely couple.” That came from one of Soral's aunts. Anna didn't know her. Several other people chimed in with agreement. And pretty soon, everybody was laughing, though Anna wasn't paying attention.

  She slipped a spoon into a glass of water, careful to not let the spoon ding against the glass. With the enhanced coordination that came from bonding a symbiont, that was easy. Keli was still on her mind, and she didn't want to let anger get the better of her.

  Anna was fiery, passionate and outspoken, but family gatherings were one of the few occasions where she preferred to remain silent. Seth felt sorry for her. She suspected the Nassai would have a few things to say when they spoke later.

  “What about you, Leana?”

  She flinched. “I'm sorry?”

  Her aunt Mianda was directly across from her with long blonde hair pulled back in a bun, leaning over the table as if she intended to whisper a secret. “I was wondering if you would be getting married anytime soon.”

  Anna looked up to blink at the woman. “Well, I…” The words came out in a strained voice. “I mean Justice Keepers don't usually…It's hard to meet someone who wants…”

  “Leana prefers the single life,” Alia said.

  One of Soral's uncles – a heavyset man with a thick salt-and-pepper mustache and graying hair – glanced in her direction. “But it can't be that hard,” he said. “A pretty girl like you. Surely you can find a date, at least.”

  Plunking her elbow down on the table, Anna put her chin in the palm of her hand. “Well, I don't know,” she said, her eyebrows climbing upward. “I guess it depends. You doing anything tonight, Milli?”

  The raven-haired woman was blushing as she smiled into a glass of water, but she recovered quickly. “I don't know,” she said. “Did you have something in mind?”

  “I might have a few ideas,” Anna teased. “Some might involve ropes.”

  “Leana!” her father snapped. “This is not the appropriate place.”

  Everyone was silent after that. Well, what were they expecting? If they were going to drag her out here and grill her about her personal life, then they had better be ready for a strong dose of unfiltered Anna. She had no interest in telling these people about Bradley or Jack or anything else that kept her up at night.

  Bleakness take her, she had only just gotten to a point where it didn't feel like her world was falling apart. The only thing she really wanted was some peace and quiet. And maybe a break from nosy relatives.

  The inability to filter herself was the reason she preferred to remain silent at these family gatherings. She wasn't entirely sure what her father expected of her – what words would make him happy if they emerged from her mouth – but she knew that her attempts to figure it out had never been successful.

  “Well,” her mother said. “Where were we…”

  Anna let them talk; there wasn't much she could contribute to the conversation in any event. Discussions about someone trying to start a war between Leyria and Antaur didn't exactly make for good dinner conversation. Nor was she will
ing to talk about what was really on her mind.

  Her blood still boiled every time she thought about what Keli had done on that ship. It had gotten to the point where Seth tried to soothe her whenever those thoughts cropped up. Sometimes, she felt sorry for her Nassai.

  Maybe ten minutes went by without anyone sparing her a second glance, and she ate a dish of green beans, sauteed mushrooms and noodles. Maximum yumminess – no doubt about that. At least she could have a quiet dinner. In a couple weeks, this wedding business would be over, and she could get back to-

  Someone touched her hand.

  A glance to her left revealed Milli turned toward her with a great big smile on her face, light sparkling in the woman's eyes. “So, you're pretty funny,” she said. “I have to admit, I admire people who can speak their minds.”

  Covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers, Anna shut her eyes. Her face was on fire, but she didn't mind. “It's something of a necessity around here,” she whispered. “But I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Well, that's a plus.”

  Surveying the table, she found that her mother was eagerly engaged in conversation with one of Soral's older cousins, and someone at the other end of the table was laughing hard enough to drown out most of everything else.

  Anna turned to Milli.

  “So,” she began. “What are you up to tonight?”

  The hallway was very plain: gray walls, dark floor-tiles, lights in the ceiling that had been designed to simulate natural sunlight. A vital component of maintaining health and well-being in those who worked in space. He wasn't sure what it was that compelled him to visit Station Twelve.

  He just knew he had to come.

  Jack walked through the hallway in jeans and a brown coat, his face twisting as he drifted through his memories of this place. “I'm an idiot, Summer,” he whispered. “Some things should stay in the past.”

  He approached a set of double doors.

  Pressing his palm against the hand-scanner, he waited for the machine to verify his identity. A moment later, it beeped a confirmation, and Jack felt a brief moment of panic. Coming to this place had been a bad idea. What was the use in stirring up old feelings? In opening old wounds. Somehow, he couldn't help himself. He was like some dumb kid in a horror movie. Of course, the monster was right behind you! Turning around would only provoke it! And yet, even knowing that, he had to look anyway.

  The doors slid apart, granting him access to a large room with bare gray walls that looked as if they hadn't seen a flicker of light in over six months. As if no one wanted to set foot in this room.

  A desk with a surface of gleaming SmartGlass was also devoid of any sign that it had once belonged to a human being. But that was how Jena would have wanted it. She hadn't bothered to decorate the office when she was alive; it made no sense to do so now that she was gone.

  He stepped inside.

  Biting his lip, Jack looked down at the floor. “So, how's by you?” he asked, deep creases lining his brow. “Not so bad, myself. Been hunting down Keepers who sold their souls to Slade.”

  The empty room had nothing to say.

  “You'd be proud of me.”

  Being in this office reminded him of all the conversations, all the arguments, all the moments of humour or companionship. It was like some angry god was determined to fill his mind with memories, a punishment for his failure to let the dead rest.

  That first encounter where Jena had grilled him about his decision to defy Breslan's orders and arrest Nicolae Petrov. The way it felt to be so impressed with this woman who just didn't have one fuck to give about the waves she made.

  Closing his eyes, Jack felt warm tears on his cheeks. His body began to tremble as he sobbed. “Damn it, Jen, why'd you have to do it? If anybody was going to throw their life away for the cause…”

  He sank to his knees, pressing the heels of his hands to his eye-sockets. “It should have been me.” The words came out as a squeak. “God damn it all! It should have been me in that room!”

  The rest of the team needed Jena; she'd had a vision, a way of countering whatever brand of depraved bullshit Slade threw at them. But what had Jack Hunter done to live up to her legacy? Arrest a woman who got herself killed in an escape attempt? Not much of a contribution. Harry had been the one to foil that escape attempt, and he paid for it with a bullet to the chest.

  Blaming himself was pointless; he knew that. But he missed Jena. She was like the wise old aunt he'd never had.

  “Jack?”

  Coming to his senses, he noticed a figure behind him, a woman who stood in the doorway with one fist on her hip. Tall and slim, Larani wore a pair of black slacks and a matching t-shirt. “Are you all right?”

  “I'm sorry,” he grunted. “I'll make with the professionalism.”

  “That's not what I mean.”

  He got up with some effort and turned around; the last thing he wanted to do was face his boss in this state of mind, but hey! The universe hated him, and it went out of its way to engineer coincidences that made life just a little more difficult. It was all part of the God Almighty Dissatisfaction Guarantee.

  Jack looked up at her with tears on his face, trying his best to maintain some level of composure. “I'm all right,” he said, nodding. “Being here just brings back memories; that's all.”

  A frown tightened Larani's mouth, and she turned her head to look at the wall. “I miss her too,” she said softly. “I've come here three times since we arrived, hoping to feel some kind of connection.”

  “Were you close?”

  “Not as close as I would have liked.”

  To his surprise, Larani spread her arms for a hug – Jack had never really thought of her as a hugger – and without even thinking, he stepped into her embrace. Whatever tiny bit of restraint he had managed up to this point shattered, and Jack found himself crying. He missed Jena.

  Larani put a hand on the back of his head, pulling him close until he buried his nose in her shoulder. “It's all right,” she whispered. “We'll get by. We always do.”

  Pulling away from her, Jack grunted.

  He winced and then rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Thank you.” His voice was hoarse, strained. “I shouldn't have come here. I just…Like you said; I wanted a connection.”

  A blush painted Larani's face red, and she bowed her head to stare down at her feet. “I know how you feel,” she said. “But I read your report a few hours ago. You and Agent Seyrus are to be commended.”

  “Thank you.”

  Suddenly, the idea that had compelled him to prematurely end his “date” with Cassi was there in his mind. “But there's something I want to look into. I think there might be a way to figure out just how much damage Isara has done.”

  “Oh?” Larani said. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Come with me. I'll show you.”

  Chapter 3

  Getting shot in the chest was not fun. Even when the bullet missed your heart and only pierced one of your lungs, even when Leyrian medical science was able to repair the damage at a faster rate than what he would have expected, getting shot still made life so very, very difficult.

  Wrapped in a fuzzy, blue bathrobe, Harry rolled through the front hall of his house in a wheelchair. His jaw was set, his eyes determined. Today, he was going to get some cleaning done, and nothing could stop him.

  The chair took him into the kitchen where sunlight through the window above the sink fell upon white cupboards that still glistened from the last traces of cleanser that had been applied mere moments ago.

  The serving bot that his daughters had named Michael stood with its back turned, spritzing the last section of countertop and wiping it down with a cloth. “Good morning, Mr. Carlson,” he said. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?”

  Harry had taken to eating breakfast on the porch; it was the only bit of fresh air he could get while he remained stuck in this chair. In all the time he had
known her, he had never been envious of Anna's bond with her symbiont; the thought of sharing his body with another living being was a little unnerving. Until now, that was. What he wouldn't give for a Justice Keeper's ability to heal quickly.

  Off to his right, the small bed they had set up near the TV on the wall was neatly made with the pillow fluffed. No doubt Michael had done that too. Harry had to sleep on the first floor of his house now; the hospital technicians had offered to set up one of those machines that would carry him up the stairs and provide him with another wheelchair for the second level, but Harry didn't want them to go to that much trouble.

  Shutting his eyes, Harry took a deep breath. “Breakfast was fine, Michael,” he said with a nod. “And you can let me handle that, if you don't mind. Doing a little work would be good for me.”

  “This unit is happy to attend to domestic tasks.”

  Harry smiled, then hung his head and stared into his own lap. “I realize that,” he said. “But let me clue you into something about recovery; feeling like you've regained a small measure of control is a big part of the process.”

  Michael just kept wiping the counter.

  The sound of soft, delicate footsteps announced Melissa as she marched into the kitchen in shorts and a gray tank-top. Her hair was up in a bun. “Morning dad,” she said. “You sleep well?”

  “Well enough.”

  “You're being nice to Michael?”

  Harry tossed his head back, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “It's a robot, Melissa,” he snapped. “It doesn't have feelings.”

  His daughter sat down on the edge of the kitchen table – something he wished she wouldn't do – and pressed her lips together as she studied him. “Michael has been a big help,” she said. “Be nice.”

  Using the small control panel on the arm of his chair, Harry turned to face his daughter. “If you insist,” he mumbled. “What I really want to talk about is your birthday. Eighteen is a pretty significant number.”

  Melissa's face went red, and she bowed her head as if she were unable to look at him. “It's really not that big a deal,” she said. “By Leyrian standards, I reached the age of majority a year ago.”